The Garden of Alcinous, visited by Odysseus on his journey home from Troy to Ithaca, was a symbol of fairytale beauty and everlasting fertility for later generations.

Homer immortalized it in the seventh book of the Odyssey: "But beyond the courtyard lies a large garden, near the gate, four acres in size." It was surrounded on all sides by a fence.

Large trees grew there, bearing numerous fruits: pears and apples, figs and olives, and pomegranates were not lacking.

“Here the fruit never spoils, nor is there a shortage, neither in winter nor in summer, throughout the year.

Instead, the constantly blowing west wind allows some fruits to grow and the others to ripen.

Pear ripens on pear and apple on apple, but also grape on grape and fig on fig.”

One could conclude that European literature began with the description of an orchard that brought together cultivated plants that were widespread and valued throughout the Mediterranean and the Near East.

However, Homer did not document a historical location, but imagined an ideal garden that reflects the continuing concern of the Phaiac king Alcinous for the food and thus for the well-being of his subjects.

Dealing with ancient evidence of fruit growing and horticulture requires knowledge of their literary function and authorial intention.

In his extremely entertaining and lavishly illustrated cultural history of the orchard, Bernd Brunner creates an impressive panorama that stretches from the early advanced civilizations through the Middle Ages and modern times to the present day and, with amazing erudition, he puts one quote after another, albeit without always mentioning himself and the reader to give an account of their historical context.

Such source-critical abstinence can blur the boundaries between fact and fiction, especially when looking at pre-modern times, and unthinkingly continue anachronistic phenomena in literature and art.

Standardized trees are susceptible to disease

Brunner vividly tells of the "art of taming the fruit" that has been continuously developing throughout human history.

If you wanted to formulate something more fashionable, the title could also be “Of the cultivation of fruit in the Anthropocene”, because the consistent motif is the more or less successful shaping of nature by Homo sapiens over thousands of years.

For Brunner, the development began with the tall growing date palms, which in oases along the old trade routes provided shade not only for people but also for other crops and were probably first cultivated on the east coast of the Arabian Peninsula.

They not only supplied dates to sweeten the dishes, but also bast, palm leaves and leaf panicles to make rope, mats and baskets.

At the end of the book, the rapidly progressing agricultural optimization is the subject of critical reflection.

In the Altes Land near Hamburg, the largest contiguous orchard in Northern Europe, three quarters of which consists of apple trees, the traditional tall trees had to give way to rows of bushes that were easier to manage.

The standardized trees are susceptible to all kinds of diseases and many pests,

and harvesting pristine fruit requires massive use of chemicals.

With his passionate plea for a return to wild fruits, Brunner speaks to the heart of every organic gardener.